Part One
Ianto sat in the tourist office, literally twiddling his thumbs as he gazed at the door, waiting for someone to enter. It had been an exceptionally slow day for Torchwood; he'd finished most of his pressing work that morning, leaving him alone with his thoughts for much of the afternoon. As his thoughts were all over the place at the moment, he didn't particularly like being alone with them.
One part of his mind kept telling him to stop overthinking, to simply enjoy whatever it was that was going on with Jack. That part would bring up images of Jack at his desk and Ianto kissing him, of an intimate dinner in Penarth, of the two of them in bed at Ianto's flat. Things had been good between them recently, and rather than accept and enjoy it, Ianto worried about it instead. That part of his mind turned it over again and again, wondering what it was, where it was going, how long it could possibly last because nothing good ever lasted, not for him. Surely it was only a matter of time before something went wrong, before Jack realized he didn't want to be with Ianto, before—
Shaking himself out of yet another tailspin of dismal thoughts, Ianto decided to get up and go out for coffee. A walk along the bay would do him some good. The girl at the coffee shop was cute and often slipped him an extra biscuit, not that he needed either, but sometimes his doubts and insecurities were overwhelming, and a little boost of confidence was good, no matter where it came from.
He called Tosh on his comm and let her know he was leaving, then grabbed his mobile and headed out before anyone could stop him. If he felt better, he'd bring them back some coffee; if not, he'd go right back to sitting in the tourist office twiddling his thumbs and eating biscuits and worrying about what had happened to his life over the last three months.
Opening the door, his mental hand-wringing was stopped by the sight of an old woman, wrapped in a heavy shawl in the middle of an August afternoon. She was approaching the tourist office on unsteady feet, and when she glanced up, Ianto recognized her immediately: it was Pat, the cleaning lady-slash-Taliskotian from his trip to Hengoed with Owen. She looked drawn and pale, a wet cough shaking her slight frame before she caught sight of Ianto.
"Oh, Mr. Jones!" she exclaimed, her voice paper thin and weak. "I've found you at last!"
"Pat!" he said as he put an arm around her shoulder and guided her into the tourist office. She was thin and shivering beneath the shawl. "What are you doing here? In Cardiff?"
"I wanted to see you," she said, smiling weakly. "And your friend, the doctor. I'm not well, Ianto."
"I can see that," he replied. He tapped his comm and called Owen.
"Owen, can you come upstairs?"
"Whatever happened to please?" the doctor replied.
"Owen, get your arse up here," Ianto snapped. "We have a visitor. From the HSRC."
There was a moment of silence, and then, "Shit! I'll be right up."
"Bring a medical kit," Ianto told him. "And try not to let Jack know."
"He's on the gun range, thank fuck. What the hell is she doing here?" Ianto could hear Owen moving around, telling Tosh he was going to catch up with Ianto for coffee, then the sound of the lift.
"I think she's sick," Ianto said quietly. Pat was leaning against his shoulder, her breathing slow and shallow. "Hurry."
It was only a minute before Owen burst out of the door into the tourist office. He hurried to the back, where Ianto was sitting with Pat, murmuring words of comfort. She was not strong at all, her eyes closed, her face pinched with exhaustion.
"What happened?" Owen asked. Not sure if he was speaking to him or to Pat, Ianto answered.
"She said she doesn't feel well," Ianto told him.
"I'm dying," said Pat.
"How do you know that?" asked Owen. "You a doctor, then?"
She smiled sadly. "No, but I know my own body, my own kind."
"Damn," Owen murmured under his breath. "That's right, she's not human, she's…er…"
"Taliskotian," Ianto finished for him. The last one, he added to himself, not wanting to upset her further.
"I know you're probably not familiar with my kind," she said, wheezing once more. "I didn't come here expecting you to cure me."
"Why did you come, then?" Owen asked. Ianto thought it was too sharp, given the poor woman's condition.
"What he means," Ianto translated, given Owen a look, "is what can we do to help?"
"I didn't want to be alone," she said.
"What about the villagers?" Owen asked. "I thought you loved that bloody place."
"I do," she said, a tear slipping out. "And I will miss them dearly. But they don't know about me, and you do. I didn't want to frighten them."
Owen swore again. "Let's take her downstairs," he said. Ianto looked at him in surprise.
"Owen, no one knows about her, remember?" It had been six weeks since he and Owen had gone out on their own, tracking a signal in the Welsh mountains. It'd been a hell of a trip—they'd got drunk, ended up in a pub brawl, and almost died in an abandoned coal mine. In the end, they'd found Pat, a Taliskotian, masquerading as a cleaning lady as she studied human behavior and waited for her ship to pick her up. Only they weren't coming, as the Taliskotians had been wiped out decades earlier.
Ianto had wanted so badly to prove himself on that mission, to earn a place on the team as more than caretaker and barista, particularly following Jack's return and the awkward adjustment it had created for all of them. Protocol dictated they bring back her to Torchwood, document the case before hopefully resettling her among the underground alien population in Cardiff. Ianto would have brought her in, but Owen insisted they let her remain in Hengoed and live out her life in the Welsh village she'd come to call home. Ianto had gone back about a fortnight later to see her, taking the bus as he'd done in his youth. He'd given her his name and number should she need any assistance, and left with the reassurance that they had done the right thing.
Except for telling Jack, because they hadn't.
As far as Jack knew, they had destroyed the last beacon and returned home, having saved Earth from the arrival of any alien ships tracking the signal. It had bothered Ianto, keeping yet another secret from Jack. It still weighed on him, to be honest, as did his place on the team. He knew he was good at certain things…making coffee, talking to the bureaucrats at Whitehall, getting the paperwork and filing done, remembering the details that others forgot…but he rarely felt like it was enough. Like it mattered, or made a difference. Sometimes he wasn't even sure anyone noticed.
It was a product of his upbringing, as he clearly remembered the first time he'd felt that way as a gangly teenager. But he had got off the estate and made something of himself—gone to university, moved to London, landed a job with Torchwood and moved quickly up the ranks, even working as PA to the director of the institute. He'd saved the world several times over, and yet most of what he'd done with his life was secret. His family knew nothing; they thought he was a washed up civil servant with terrible hours and an overbearing boss. They assumed he was single because he was still mourning the girlfriend who had died in the terrorist attack at Canary Wharf, leaving him with PTSD. Well, they'd got some of it right, anyway.
All these thoughts passed through his mind in a matter of seconds, before Pat started coughing again and Ianto knew Owen was right, they needed to take her downstairs. Torchwood helped aliens, even illegal ones left behind. If Jack was angry, then they would deal with it later, once they had made Pat comfortable. He couldn't let her suffer because he was afraid of what Jack would think when he found out they had lied.
"All right," he said. "Let's go."
Owen studied his face and nodded, apparently sensing Ianto's concern. "I'll handle Jack," he said. Ianto raised that eyebrow Owen seemed to dread so much.
"Didn't think you were into that sort of thing," he said.
Owen replied with the eye roll he'd adopted from Ianto. "I meant, I'll take the blame. It was my idea, I was commanding officer, and—"
"—and I agreed with your decision, as well as the decision to keep it from the official report." Ianto helped Pat stand and start toward the lift. "It's fine. I can handle myself."
Owen snickered, but sobered quickly as the lift descended. "Can't have been easy, lying to him."
"We didn't lie, we simply didn't tell him the whole story," Ianto pointed out. "Besides, you've had to do the same."
"Yeah, but I'm not sha—"
Ianto cleared his throat to interrupt the doctor before he said too much. For some reason, he didn't think it was something Pat needed to know.
"Is this your boss?" Pat asked. "This man, Jack? You didn't tell him about me?"
"We were going to bring you back to Torchwood, remember?" Ianto told her gently. "So rather than explain why we didn't, we, er…"
"Simply didn't bother to report any of it," Owen finished. "Better that way. Jack can be unpredictable."
Ianto wanted to protest, but it was true, particularly since Jack had returned. Jack shouldn't be angry that they had helped a benevolent alien, especially since they'd seen him do the same several times, but one couldn't be sure what to expect. Jack could be perfectly understanding but find something else at fault; he could write it off completely; he could be upset about not knowing. Ianto thought he knew Jack more than the others, could predict and manage the man's moods fairly well, but then Jack would do something completely impulsive and catch them all by surprise. Sort of like when he'd died and left the planet.
If he were honest with himself, Ianto wasn't worried about Jack's reaction for professional reasons as much as for personal ones. He hated the idea of lying to Jack again, and yet had feared telling Jack would see him being found unworthy. A failure. And even more than losing his place at Torchwood or even his place in Jack's life, Ianto feared losing Jack's good opinion of him.
He must have had a look on his face—worry, doubt, fear. Owen touched his shoulder. "He can't be mad at us, mate," he said. "We didn't do anything wrong."
"We didn't tell him," Ianto pointed out.
"He doesn't tell us plenty of things," Owen said. "Like where's he from, how old he is, why he wears braces with a belt. It'll be fine. Let's get Pat set up in the medical bay."
Fortunately, Jack was still on the gun range. They introduced Pat to Tosh with quick, whispered explanations; Ianto was irrationally glad Gwen was out, as she frequently complicated things with her myopic compassion. After helping the old woman down the stairs, Owen started to examine her, but soon stopped and shook his head.
"I can't treat you as a human," he said. "Because you're not. You should probably revert to your real form."
She sighed and nodded and returned to her true form, which Ianto still found reminded him remarkably of a very large badger. Owen took some more readings, but after a while he stopped again, hands on his hips in frustration.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know what the hell these readings mean. I have no idea if they're normal or not."
"Probably not," Pat wheezed. "I told you, I'm dying."
"Tell us how we can help," Ianto said.
A paw reached out for his hand, and he clasped furry fingers. "There's nothing. I'm old. Just being here is enough."
"Is there anything we can get for you?" Ianto asked.
"Ianto makes a hell of a cup of coffee," drawled a voice from above them. Jack stood there, leaning on the railing with his 'I don't know what's going on but I'm going to find out if it kills me' face. "Although I'm not entirely sure Taliskotians can drink coffee, can they?"
"Shit," Owen murmured.
"What was that?" Jack asked.
"Look, I can explain," the doctor started. "But let me help her first."
"By all means, help our new alien friend." Jack's voice was dry, not quite angry, but definitely not happy. "Ianto, my office, please."
Ianto exchanged a glance with Owen and started toward the stairs.
"He doesn't know anything, Jack," Owen called up. "I'll come up when I'm done here and spill my guts. Ianto can get the official hand slap ready for my file."
"It's fine, Owen," Ianto told him. "I'll fill him in, you help Pat." He met Jack at the railing and followed him toward the office. Tosh mouthed 'Good luck' as they passed, but Jack didn't notice. Ianto hoped it wasn't so loud that they all heard, though the uncomfortable silence between them would indicate otherwise.
Jack shut the door and motioned him to sit, but Ianto chose to stand with his hands clasped behind him. Jack in turn leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his chest.
"So we have a Taliskotian in the Hub," he began.
"Yes, sir," Ianto replied.
"I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess it's something to do with that little trip you and Owen took in June, since the odds of picking up a Taliskotian signal in the Welsh countryside and then one showing up in the Hub are probably pretty high."
"You'd be safe going out on that limb," Ianto replied. Jack waited, then blew out a frustrated breath.
"So what's the story?" he asked, sounding both curious and annoyed. "Because there was nothing about finding an actual Taliskotian out there in the official report."
Ianto took a deep breath. "We met her when we found the last beacon. It was hers, she was waiting for her ship to pick her up. She'd been waiting for 200 years."
Jack looked slightly surprised at that. "But the Taliskotians were destroyed years ago," he pointed out. "There are no more ships."
"That's what we told her," Ianto replied. "And it wasn't easy. It was even worse than spending the night in a hotel room with Owen."
"Telling someone they're the last of their species and no one is coming to take them home?" said Jack. "No, that wouldn't be easy. So why didn't you include it in the report? In fact, protocol says you should have brought her to the Hub for evaluation."
"Yes, I know," Ianto replied. He did not add that he had been ready to follow the rules, that it was Owen who had helped him break them. "But we evaluated the situation in the field and decided she wasn't a threat. There was no reason to bring her back to Cardiff when all she wanted was to stay where she'd been for so long."
"In Hengoed?" Jack asked skeptically, mangling the word almost as badly as Owen.
"It's a bit remote," Ianto agreed. "But it's quite beautiful. The people there are good people, and she'd been there long enough to call it home. We destroyed the beacon and let her live her life in peace."
"How did she end up here, then?" Jack asked. The irritated tone to his voice was gone, but Ianto did not relax, not yet.
"She knew we were from Torchwood," he said. Jack waited expectantly for more. Ianto sighed. "I might have given her my card, in case she ever needed help."
Jack smiled at the ground, shaking his head, though Ianto wasn't sure whether it was with fondness or exasperation. "Of course you did," he murmured. "And now she's come for help?"
"She says she's dying," Ianto replied. "And that she didn't want to be alone. The least we can do is make her comfortable."
"All right, then we make her comfortable," Jack agreed. "But I have one more question."
"Yes, sir?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
It was the question Ianto had been waiting for since he'd walked into the office, but he still wasn't completely prepared to answer it. He'd been trying to answer it for himself for weeks, after all.
"We didn't see the need to make it official," he replied, sidestepping the question. Jack cocked his head.
"Alien living in the Welsh countryside? That should probably be official."
"Perhaps," Ianto murmured. He glanced out into the Hub to have something else to look at but Jack. "I suppose we wanted to avoid any unpleasant confrontations."
"Unpleasant confrontations?" Jack repeated. "You mean, like this one?"
Ianto sighed. "Exactly like this one, yes. And we didn't want to put her at risk if you didn't approve."
"You didn't think I'd approve?" Jack said. "You made a decision in the field. It's my job to trust my people."
"It's your job to question us as well. You can call us on it, for not following protocol."
"And do you think I will?" Jack asked. "Because I'm such a taskmaster when it comes to following the rules?"
Ianto's mouth quirked up. "You don't have that reputation, no, but as our team leader, you have every right to hold the rest of us to it."
Jack studied him for a long moment. "Like you already said, you made a decision in the field. You evaluated the situation and concluded that it was safe to allow her to remain. You didn't want to cause her undo pain, and I respect that." He looked down at the floor, scuffed his toe a few times before looking up and meeting Ianto's eyes. "So why didn't you tell me?"
Ianto thought he knew what Jack was getting at, but wasn't ready to address it. "I believe I already addressed the matter of the report," he said. "And I'm sorry that we—"
"No," said Jack, shaking his head. "Why didn't you tell me?" He paused, then continued in a quieter tone. "And I don't mean as your boss."
Ianto tried not to blow out a long breath or run his hand through his hair; he was a rational adult who could discuss things without becoming a nervous wreck, even if it made him feel like one.
"I'm sorry," he replied with a shrug. "But sometimes it feels more appropriate to keep our personal and professional lives separate."
Jack scrubbed his face and started pacing; apparently he had no qualms about working off his nervous energy. "No, I think there's something else. You didn't report it officially, I understand that. But would you have told me, personally?"
Ianto thought about it, but found he couldn't answer honestly. "I don't know. I didn't tell Tosh or Gwen. It wasn't something we felt Torchwood needed to know about."
"But I don't understand how you could keep it from me for this long," Jack said, sounding confused, almost hurt. "Especially when we're not just boss and employee."
"You mean, when we're naked and in bed?" Ianto asked sharply. "That's the last place I'd share something like this, Jack."
Jack looked shocked, and Ianto wondered for a moment what bothered him about the comment. It wasn't as if they had long, deep conversations in bed—or anywhere, for that matter. Sex was intense and brilliant, but everything else was casual. They talked about simple things, like the news and the weather, what they wanted for dinner, their favorite Top Gear car. Jack had only been back for three months, after all, and although he'd asked Ianto out on a date the night he'd returned, it had taken Ianto almost two weeks to go through with it, putting Jack off whenever he tried to set a date or time.
The date had been remarkably awkward, forcing them to finally figure out why. It had been their one and only serious conversation, airing out their hurt and angry feelings to a point where they could at least agree on what they wanted moving forward: to try again, but as something more than casual lovers at work. They'd decided to let it evolve slowly into whatever it was meant to be, and it had been going well ever since.
At the time, he'd gone out to Hengoed with Owen, he and Jack had been on several dates, quickly reigniting the attraction—and affection—between them, and slowly but surely regaining some of the trust they'd both broken. He'd referred to Jack as his boyfriend at the pub with Owen, but that had been more of an off-the-cuff deflection than anything. He wasn't sure if Jack considered himself a boyfriend of any sort, given his clear and well-known dislike of categories, boxes, and labels. There were times, like the night before Tommy Brockless was sent back in time, that Ianto thought it was more serious than either of them had expected, and then there were times when he was sure it wasn't, that Jack wanted someone else, was only using Ianto, even though Ianto was starting to feel—
He shook his head of the repetitive thoughts once more. He needed to say something. "Jack, I'm sorry if I—"
Owen burst in then, startling them both.
"It's my fault, Jack," he started. "I pulled rank and made him follow orders to leave her alone and destroy any evidence—"
"I thought it was a mutual decision made in the field after properly evaluating the situation?" Jack asked, moving quickly to the other side of his desk, his face betraying no sign of hurt or confusion.
"Right, that too," Owen said, waving it away. "But I signed off on it, so don't take it out on teaboy here—"
"Owen," Ianto murmured.
"While I admire your self-sacrifice, doctor," Jack drawled. "It's fine. I understand why you didn't report it."
"You do? Right." Owen glanced back and forth between Jack and Ianto, clearly picking up the discomfort between them. "Okay then, glad that's settled. Ianto, Pat wants to see you."
"Oh, er…" Ianto glanced at Jack, who nodded.
"Go ahead," he said. "We can finish later."
"Yes, sir," Ianto murmured, and left the office to head down to the medical bay. He tried not to imagine what Owen and Jack were talking about now that he'd left; he definitely did not think about finishing the conversation with Jack later. He hoped they never did.
Instead, he sat with Pat for the rest of the afternoon. Owen had moved her to a more comfortable room off the medical bay, where she returned to her human form for brief periods of time. She apologized for impersonating Ianto's grandmother when he had first found her. He shared stories of his nan and the time he spent in the area, while she talked about the many years she had lived in Hengoed, studying the villagers for her people. He found her insights to be both amusing and profound, and he enjoyed talking with her. At times, she almost reminded him of his grandmother.
It was not long after dinner that her condition took a turn for the worse, and Ianto called Owen down from where he'd been sitting on the sofa catching up on the files Ianto had pulled on the Taliskotians. They were by her side as she breathed her last, her eyes closed in peace, a small smile on her face. Owen swore, but neither of them moved for several minutes.
"I need a beer," Owen announced, rousing himself. "Coming?"
Ianto glanced at him in surprise; he and Owen rarely went out together. The fiasco at the pub in Hengoed had been a rare outing for them, as Owen usually went out on his own. Ianto half feared reliving the night they'd spent in the small Welsh pub, but it was better than talking to Jack at the moment. Things had been awkward between them for the rest of the day, and they'd not finished their talk from earlier. Ianto was still hoping to avoid that particular conversation.
"Yeah, sure," he said. "Sounds good."
"I'll get her tucked away then," Owen said. "We can figure out what to do in the morning."
"I'll let Jack know," Ianto said. Before he could turn away, Owen spoke up.
"You and him all right?" he asked. "With this whole thing coming back to bite us in the arse?"
"I told you it was fine," Ianto replied. He honestly wasn't sure if he and Jack were all right since they hadn't finished talking about it and were unlikely to finish talking about it. He imagined they'd avoid each other some more, ignore the issue, and finally shag it away. It had worked in the past, after all—before Jack had left. Why should it be any different now?
"Bit awkward when I was up there," Owen said, starting to disconnect Pat from various machines. "He said he was okay with us not reporting it, but he didn't seem happy with you."
"Because I didn't tell him," Ianto told him.
"Neither did I," Owen replied with a shrug. "I didn't get the sad face with the puppy dog eyes."
"As far as I know, you're not…you know…with him." Ianto paused. "Are you?" He was rewarded when Owen gave him a positively disgusted look.
"Do you have to ask? God, no. Never even considered it."
"Really?" Ianto asked in surprise. "I'd have thought everyone—"
"I don't want to know what you think," Owen stopped him. "Besides, it's obvious something's going on between you two, boyfriend jokes aside."
"Ah," Ianto nodded. "You did hear that."
"'Course I did," Owen said. "Hard to miss a bombshell like that."
"You didn't take the piss at the time," Ianto told him. "Figured you'd missed it."
"Too many other things on my mind," Owen replied. "And I've tried not to think about it every day since."
Ianto nodded and went upstairs. Jack was not in his office, though Ianto wasn't sure where he was. Rather than call, Ianto sent a text, telling him that Pat had died and that he and Owen were going out to get a drink. Jack texted him back immediately.
Can I come by later?
Ianto had planned to go home after, but knew he couldn't say no simply because he was a coward and wanted to avoid talking to Jack about the situation. He told Jack he'd send him another message when he was on his way home. Then he shut down his station, grabbed his coat, and headed out the door with Owen, determined to drink enough that he stopped worrying about his life for at least an hour.
Author's Note:
Part Two will be posted within a few days. Thank you for reading.